


all these little things

by thebitterbeast



Series: challenge me to a drabble [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, I'm leaning towards pre-slash myself, M/M, OTP Drabble Challenge, Prompt Fill, also the dialogue prompt is i think meant to be between the two, but it worked better to have the prompt come from ray with mick's reaction being non-verbal?, could be taken as, not exactly shippy, seemed more ic, this is my first time writing them together so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9768158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebitterbeast/pseuds/thebitterbeast
Summary: Ray's lost in his own thoughts, in his lab, until he's not alone anymore.Prompt: "Chinese food?" - "Do we even know what's in here?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> so despite having a buttload of prompts still waiting to be filled, I reblogged a thing and now I have more!
> 
> as prompted by anonymous on tumblr.

It was a rare thing that they had downtime. Considering the fact that they practically **lived** in the time stream, sometimes Ray found it ironic. Wasn’t the fact that they had time at their fingertips supposed to mean they had more time to recuperate instead of running from one crisis to the next?

Except, apparently, he was not the only workaholic on the team. Or maybe they were all running from something…

Not that he would admit that out loud. He figured if no one had noticed by now that he had his own demons hiding behind his guileless smile then he would not enlighten them.

So. Downtime. Because Nate had come across o aberrations for them to correct, and the aptly named _Legion Of Doom_ were worryingly silent. It meant Ray was sequestered in his lab, tinkering away at his suit while contemplating just how he could rebuild the Cold Gun with the materials at hand.

The guilt he still felt over having had to dismantle it was probably more than was warranted, considering it had been a life or death situation, but Ray never did emotions halfway.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a plastic bag being dropped directly into his line of vision. The scientist jerked, surprise colouring his features at the sight of a scowling Mick. He dropped his gaze back down to the plastic bag, before tilting his head in silent question at the older man.

“When was the last time you ate, Haircut?” was the gruff response he got to his confusion.

Sheepishness coated his features when he realized he could not accurately place his last proper meal. “Yesterday?” Murmured under his breath was an added, “I think.”

The unimpressed scowl he received in reply made him realize that he was not as quiet as he thought he had been. Either that, or Mick had exceptionally scarily good hearing. “Eat.” He pushed the bag closer to the scientist.

Ray was quiet as he did what he was told, sneaking peeks at Mick as he did so. It warmed him, that someone seemed to care about his wellbeing. Logically, he figured it had more to do with it being necessary that he was at peak condition in case of an emergency, but he liked to pretend it was because Mick thought of him as a friend.

That Mick still thought of them as partners despite Ray’s utter failure at being a good one.

The food, when revealed, was as familiar as it was unfamiliar. The smells reminded him of college, and the easy-to-make, easy-to-get dishes on campus. But it looked nothing like what he was used to. He case a questioning glance at Mick. “Chinese food?”

There was a nod in reply, Mick digging into his own meal, having dragged a chair across from Ray. His feet were propped onto the table, a fact Ray had not noticed him do, too caught up in his own head.

An amused smirk flit across Ray’s face at the sight of a famed thief and criminal chowing down on what Ray thought was ginger chicken, sauce smeared on the corner of his mouth. “Do we even know what’s in this?” he teased slightly, dubious as he poked at his own meal with his chopsticks.

“Food’s food,” was the answer he got and, well. Ray shrugged in acquiescence before taking a cautious bite.

The explosion of flavour in his mouth was unexpected, as was the hunger that sprung up all of a sudden. He eagerly dug in, casting a grin over at Mick. “Thanks, buddy.” He ducked his head before he could see Mick’s reaction.

He **did** hear the clearing of a throat and the slight discomfort at **_feelings_** in Mick’s, “Don’t expect me to feed you all the time.”

Ray smiled into his food. So maybe Mick **did** think of him as a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> i love these losers so much. ray palmer is my tol son and mick rory is just - look, [come talk to me](http://ankahikoibaat.tumblr.com/) about his arms. i could write odes to his arms.


End file.
